As A biker, I tend to receive one book repeatedly as a gift : "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." It's just one of those things that non-motorcyclists tend to give actual motorcyclists as a show of friendship, courtship or simpatico, which is why I currently own two copies and have probably given away at least as many.
Never mind that "Zen" isn't (really) about motorcycles or their maintenance. Nor is it (really) about the strain of Buddhism known as Zen. It's a philosophical text about values and how individuals engage with the spiritual and technological aspects of their lives. Motorcycles are merely the lens through which those values are viewed.
"Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" was written by Robert M. Pirsig, an intellectual who in the late 1960s rode a bike from Minneapolis to San Francisco with his son and, for a portion of the journey, two friends. Despite being rejected by 121 publishers, the book has become one of the most popular philosophy books of all time. Available in 27 languages, it has sold millions of copies since its initial publication in 1974 and continues to be in print today.
"Zen" is an undisputed classic, yet it is also one of those love-it-or-leave-it sorts of books that tends to resonate only when the reader is ready for its message. I had attempted to read this legendary tome three times, only finding success with my last try. So I was happy to learn in the first chapter of the new book "Zen and Now" that its author, Mark Richardson, had experienced the exact same thing.
It also took Richardson three attempts to read the book all the way through -- the last time being so affecting that Richardson, who is the automotive and motorcycle editor for the Toronto Star newspaper, set out to re-create Pirsig's legendary route along roads less traveled. Not only was Richardson in search of "Zen's" continued relevance but to prove his own theory that if Pirsig's book "could open so many readers' eyes to more of life's qualities, then . . . his actual journey can open my eyes wider still."
Unfortunately, Richardson doesn't spend enough time in the book opening his eyes to another main motivation for his trip: his need to flee his wife and sons for a while and purge what is clearly a midlife crisis as he approaches his 42nd birthday. Richardson is either unaware or too embarrassed to fully embrace this inconvenient truth, and in doing so, he's missed an opportunity not only to make Pirsig's trip his own but to connect with the likely readers of this book -- the many middle-aged men who have taken up motorcycling for that very reason.
